


Dark Space, White Star

by Capucine



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Batwoman (Comic), DCU (Comics)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Aftermath of Torture, Alternate Character Interpretation, Alternate Universe - Not Superheroes, Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Alternate Universe - Space, Alternate Universe - Space Opera, Asexual Character, Barbara Gordon is Oracle, Bisexual Female Character, But not as much by the batfam, Child Soldiers, Clones, Crew as Family, Demisexual Character, Drama, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, F/F, F/M, Families of Choice, Firefly-Inspired, Gen, Gray Asexual Character, Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Lots of Morally Bad Stuff, M/M, Mind Control Aftermath & Recovery, Morality, Multi, POV Multiple, Past Child Abuse, Peril, Polyamory, Polyfidelity, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Spaceships, Team as Family, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, Torture, Unconventional Relationship, but only in some areas
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-12
Updated: 2016-04-14
Packaged: 2018-05-19 21:25:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5981446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Capucine/pseuds/Capucine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The crew of The Dark Knight are a ragtag bunch, and their ship is not exactly the proudest vessel around. In a galaxy where humanity has spread over several planets and the relationships between them and the groups within are complex, many people eschew ground living and take to the stars.</p>
<p>They all have their reasons for being there. And their existence is occasionally perilous, but mostly stable and not so full of interpersonal drama.</p>
<p>A stowaway is about to change all that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this while watching Star Trek (the OS!) with my father while having no internet.
> 
> On that note, it is waaaay more Firefly than Star Trek. By a shit ton.

The thing about a space-ship--not so much space.

It was always a thing that took getting used to, that drove some people mad. People like the crew of _The Dark Knight_ called them grounders.

Tim personally thought it suited them nicely--it sounded like grinding their teeth in a primitive, brutish way, and they were generally of that type, in his opinion. Snarling folks who preached about man damning himself by venturing through the stars--didn't people know there were _children_ who'd never set foot on a planet? By Jove, the inhumanity of the way that women and children were crammed into tin cans with men who didn't even know how to hunt or run a ground tiller--it was disgusting and godless! It would leech the world(s) of their humanity altogether, in this time of great moral decay.

Funny thing, of course--the worlds had been settled a long, long time ago by people in spaceships. People who had lived their whole lives in spaceships, in fact--it took that long to get there, and the technology was kind of primitive. Well, not _primitive_ , Tim would admit, it was a huge leap forward in science to travel stars, lots of physics and such involved, it was like ancient peoples coming up with things like communication over wavelengths--it was highly advanced for their time and took a lot to come up with. Wavelengths, such as radio, for instance, were invisible to the human eye, and so it must've taken a lot to figure out they were even there and could be used.

And Tim could appreciate that. He could appreciate the great lengths that humanity had gone to to find out about the universe around them and allowed for him to be here right now.

Hammering away with a wrench at a goddamn stuck coupling.

"Hey, Baby Bird, you getting anywhere with that thing?"

What Tim said about a lack of space? He was kinda feeling it now, stuck under the mechanical mess that was the main engine and related hardware of _The Dark Knight_ and with Jason standing next to him, boots with that oil-soaked smell right near him and the sound of the elder leaning on the piping above him as it creaked enough to make him want to kick out with his own boots and leave him walking funny for a bit.

"Yes, Jason--" he grunted, swinging several more times with loud clanks, "I am--getting somewhere--what does--it sound like?"

"It sounds like _someone_ let the couplings get stuck--you know you're supposed to oil them like once every three months at least, right, Baby Bird?" He could hear Jason's smirk, and Jason was going to get a kick in the rear if he kept on like this.

"Fuck you, go oil yourself," Tim grumbled, a particularly vicious hit at the coupling accompanying it.

"Oh, I would, Timmy, but I don't think anyone here would appreciate the preening," Jason said, "Unless you'd like to join me later--"

"Jason!"

Tim could feel that red hot creep in his cheeks. He really hated when Jason turned things sexual. It made him highly uncomfortable.

Jason snorted, and leaned more heavily on the metal above Tim, making it creak a touch. "You need me to get in there? It sounds like you're not really making progress."

Tim made one more, more vicious strike, and it came free. "No. Like with almost everything else on this ship, your assistance isn't needed." He blinked as a minor face full of gunk fell, and wiped it off his face.

"Well, that's just ungrateful, Timmy," Jason scoffed, knocking his boot against Tim's in a not-so-forceful way. "Next time you're too short for something, you're gonna have to ask Dick, just for that."

"I will ask Dick," Tim replied without hesitation, and refitted the coupling speedily. There. Now there wouldn't be any sudden snapping--he'd been testing rigidity. There had to be a certain amount of give. Not so much that things just slapped around, but if it was too brittle, it would just snap. Slight amount of give, no more--just in case they collided with something, heaven forbid. 

Collisions were an extreme danger, but on the off chance it was a slow-speed or they survived--the last thing they needed was all the hardware breaking too.

Anything moving in space was going to be moving fast, chances were, minus some slow-moving vessel. Which would only be slow-moving under specific circumstances. So yeah. No collisions, please.

Tim could explain the physics--with no friction, any force consistently applied, however small, would keep speeding the thing up. Or, if a thing started off at one speed, it wasn't going to change unless a force acted on it. Such as a ship getting in its way.

He thought he could hear Jason murmuring about Dick not being as tall or something, but he just rolled his eyes and finished off his work. He'd gotten the other couplings--this was just maintenance.

He moved out from underneath, ending up in a crouch and rolling his shoulders, then standing to stretch his back. He didn't feel uncomfortable doing so around Jason, because while Jason might make sexual comments on occasion, he didn't comment on Tim's _body_. He knew enough to know that was crossing a line.

Just like suggesting Jason being expendable, like 'Go outside and see if there's air, Jason, we've got other crew members if not!' was crossing a line. Useless around the ship? That was okay.

They all had their lines. Most of the time, the others didn't cross them.

"Hey, Timmy, you think Alfred saved some of that soup from last night? I mean, we're not going to get carrots again any time soon, so, you know," Jason said, elbows back against the piping as he watched Tim.

"Probably," Tim acknowledged, cracking his knuckles. "He's big on spoiling _you_ , so I wouldn't doubt he saved an extra serving for you."

Jason grinned. "Hey, Tim, you directly save a man's life, then you get to have extra vitamin C and shit, kay?"

"Yes, because maintaining the systems that keep our ship from killing us all in the vacuum of space doesn't count," Tim said, a shake of his head. He wasn't actually annoyed, but he did find it kind of funny. Alfred wasn't mean to him or anything, just tended to save extra bits for Jason.

"I said _directly_ , Tim," Jason said with a smirk, "but good job. I like not dying in the vacuum of space."

Tim rolled his eyes, and headed out of the engine room. They both moved towards the galley, Jason easily swinging his arms in his large jacket (a material made of leather interwoven with plastic at a micro level, the name of which was escaping Tim) and Tim moving along in his jumpsuit. It was comfy, an olive tan color, and baggy, which was nice. Lots of pockets too. He also had a red kerchief around his neck, which came in handy on occasion, so long as it was tucked carefully away and would not caught in anything.

The aroma of stewing protein (not quite meat, not in the traditional sense) pervaded the air as they entered the galley, over which Alfred held control. As appeasement, they both swiftly disinfected their hands, using the old-style system by the door--new ones didn't have that slight creepy-crawly sensation on your hands. Tim thought that might be a manufacturing glitch, though--one he hadn't had the chance to look into yet.

Alfred looked over, and a brief smile crossed his face. "Ah, I was wondering when you'd show up."

Jason laughed. "Come on, we're not that predictable. There any soup left?"

Alfred nodded, and opened one of the preservation drawers. There was a tin of soup, a decent size, and he opened it with a cracking noise. "Enjoy, there's enough for both of you."

Jason generously tipped the tin so it poured into a cup, handing that to Tim. "You heard the man, enjoy!"

Tim sipped the soup--the pieces were small enough to do so. He wasn't always fond of vegetables, but the chicken flavoring and the spices that Alfred mixed in, plus the soft, tasty noodles, made it wonderful.

"At least stay out of the way," Alfred said, an almost stern voice, but the fondness was beneath. He was a rather stiff upper lip kind of person, having been through a war and all kinds of stuff that Tim only had some of the details on, but he could also be considered the 'parent' of the group. Sort of.

They were certainly not your average crew, in some ways.

About that time, Kate showed up, frown on her face as she entered the galley. Her eyes landed on Alfred for a second, as if remembering his rule (no fighting in the galley), and she gestured to the both of them with her chin. "We need to talk. Outside."

"Aw," Jason sighed, slurping a large spoonful of soup.

Rations were...not so rationed, Tim supposed. Food was plentiful enough throughout the system and so on, and getting more than enough of it for the journey was easy. It was only certain foods that were hard to get ahold of--nutrients and stuff were easy, _tasty_ sources weren't.

So, it couldn't about the soup, at least.

Tim was going through a list of anything he might've done (that Jason would be involved in too) as they stepped out, Alfred busily cleaning the food heating unit.

Kate was giving them both a severe look, red lips pulled into an annoyed frown. As soon as the door shut behind them, she said, "We have a problem."

"And that'd be?" Jason asked, slurping more soup. He didn't really do the manners thing so much, though Tim was pretty sure he was capable.

"We have a stowaway."

Tim's eyebrows raised. "Any info on them? Or just evidence that they're here?"

Kate pressed her lips together. She certainly could be a fun person to be around, but when she was acting as the temporary captain, she was all business. All professional leader. "Evidence. And given that we're a day out from picking up the captain and so on, we're going to need to flush them out and then contain them--at least."

Jason had a solemn look on his face. The grin from before was gone. "Okay. If they're a threat, I'm stabbing them."

Kate nodded. "Don't leave Tim or Barbara alone while they're working--"

Jason snorted, "Babs'll kill you if she hears that."

Tim was frowning, but he could see the sense, even before Kate added, with a 'this isn't a joke' look,

"While they're working and may be distracted, not that they can't defend themselves."

Barbara was their primary pilot. Tim, their mechanic. They were certainly the most likely to be distracted.

"We should have Steph hang around Alfred. He could use the help, right?" Jason said, a frown on his face.

Kate nodded. "I'll tell her. Keep an eye out. I'm going to flush them out."

Tim nodded. Jason gave a mock salute.

Kate disappeared into the ship, that serious frown still on her face.

"Well, Timmy, it seems I'm your bodyguard now," Jason said, a grin on his face.

"While I'm working," Tim corrected, "Because I need to put full attention on the work I'm doing since it's critical I don't destroy the engine or so on."

"Yeah, yeah. Okay." Jason shrugged off the definition, fingering the handle of his blade. It was a long thing, jagged edge--it had uses beyond attacking people, though that was often the primary use for Jason. A shooting weapon in a vessel like theirs was a major leak or other critical damage waiting to happen.

Tim rolled his eyes, and headed for the main control, where Barbara undoubtedly was.

She was definitely better company.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cass, the Captain, Bruce Wayne, and Dick handle negotiations with government leaders on a planet. Things break down.

Cass was good at what she did. Probably one of the best.

What she didn’t do, or didn’t really know how to do, was what bothered her. Every time she made those concerns known to Tim or Steph, though, they tended to be able to assuage it—Steph with an easy smile, assuring her she was awesome, and Tim with a touch, a quiet assurance.

She was glad she’d found them—found the crew at all. _The Dark Knight_ was a refuge for her, and _home_.

She would do almost anything for it and its crew.

At the moment, that anything was standing there looking intimidating as Bruce negotiated with the government of Bialia, a snowy world that was dealing with a plague. She had her hands resting on her belt, a cool look in her eyes.

The world wasn’t all snow—she knew because Tim had pulled up files and shown her. It was really only a few degrees off of a more temperate world, according to Tim—anything less wouldn’t be habitable. But it had a short growing season—which was made viable by extremely fertile dirt and fast growing, tough plants. There were a lot of plants that had been interbred to make it possible to not only live here, but live well.

Well…well enough.

The pale men standing across from them kept licking their raw meat colored lips and insisting that there had to be a discount, that hey, they were buying in bulk, weren’t they? And besides which, it looked like some of the packaging was damaged.

If they were truly poor, Cass would have forgiven such wrangling when people’s lives were on the line. The cure was not terribly cheap, though not really expensive either, just enough to make this stop profitable.

But these men were not poor. No, she could tell with just a look that they were just greedy. They didn’t care that their people were in danger of dying—they didn’t want to pay full price. It wasn’t desperation—it was ‘how much can I shave off so I can buy something nice with the extra?’

It was likely to be something that Cass would find distasteful. She didn’t really want to think on it, knowing of some the more horrifically unsavory vices there were.

But Bruce was leaning forward, body subtly threatening as he said, “Would you prefer I took it with me? I’m certain I can find somewhere else that will purchase it at the price promised—perhaps Nova Roma?”

Nova Roma was rumored to have the beginnings of the plague. It was a place that Cass would rather avoid, as much of the planet was extremely false and disingenuous—but it would work to pressure the rulers of Bialia.

The look on one of the men’s faces seemed to crack a little. “Only the Canem District has shown any signs of the plague, and no one—“

“And where did you hear that? It’s the poorest district—do you think that Nova Roma would allow such conceptions of its most respectable districts out if they could help it? I personally think they’d rather a majority of the population died.”

Bruce’s voice was the same timbre that was truth—or at least, close enough.

Because he was mostly lying—but from the looks on the Bialians’ faces, they believed him.

“Fine,” one man cursed, “Fine, go get the money and food, Constable.”

A man with a small amount of armor went with a pinched-mouthed look to get their promised payment. It made Cass kind of want to smirk.

Profiteers deserved to feel stupid like that.

On the other side of Bruce, Dick went through a cheerful explanation of how to administer the cure, what conditions to store it under, and contraindications. The men were scowling, as the Constable returned, setting down a mesh-plastic bag full of credit chips (which were exchangeable for the currency of any world, electronic or no) and a plastic case of food. He muttered something under his breath.

Probably cursing them for ruining whatever plan they’d had for the money of the Bialian residents, but the crew stolidly ignored it.

Cass grabbed the case of food, and Dick picked up the bag of credit chips, both opening up theirs to peer inside.

Cass grinned a bit at the contents—Tim was going to be ecstatic. It was real meat, presumably from what they called a wisent, a big, hairy mammal, and that alone would be enough to send Tim just absolutely beaming—but then there was also a bunch of milk in the box. Tim wouldn’t care about the assorted vegetables, but the brown boxes of milk? He would get that shining eyes look on his face.

Not to say no one else liked food or would be happy about it—but it was a delight to see Tim that happy.

Dick nodded at Bruce, saying, “They’re the real thing.” He tightened the bag shut, and slung it over his shoulder.

Bruce nodded back, and slid forward the plastic cases of the cure. “Thanks for doing business with us. You know how to contact us again should you need our help on such a tight deadline again.”

The men seemed irritable, but not enough to attack.

The three of them left without another word, the air of having defeated an enemy negligibly there. Bruce was not the type to gloat.

He sent a message up to the crew as they stepped out; there was a small sprinkling of snow, but this was as the snow season (most of their year) was ending. It was pretty crisp air, not with an artificial, warm feeling to it. Steph had explained to her that the ship had to have humidifiers to keep them from drying out, ‘cause lungs are delicate shit’ and such.

The first shot rang out before she got out of her revery, but she was already ducking and tumbling to a safe position behind an ancient stump.

She was not shocked, and it was like she clicked right back into her training.

Pale meat lips number one was shooting a gun. She assessed instantly that there were many large chunks of wood next to her, heavy, and made the split second decision not to waste her arsenal. She lobbed it at him, striking him in the heat and sending him flat on the ground.

Number two was also using a gun. The weapon of cowards. Cass threw a log piece and hit his trigger finger, trapping it between the log and trigger ring—between a rock and a hard place. Only one thing was going to give in that case, and Cass moved on as he screamed in agony and dropped the gun.

Number three was probably the easiest. He was sweating violently and aiming horribly. She had him with a mere log to the chest, which made him cry out in fear and drop his gun.

Constable was pinned by Dick, the potentially electro-charged tip of his escrima stick pressed against his neck. Constable looked terrified but furious, face red and huffs of gaspy anger coming out of his mouth as his eyes bugged.

Bruce leaned down to his level, as Cass loped over, feeling the tension of fighting bleed out of her like liquid from a slowly tipped cup. He growled into his face, “If any representative of Bialia does something like this again, I promise they won’t be left with either the payment for the goods or the goods—nor can I promise your damn lives. But in the interest of the plague victims, I am leaving the cure here now. Be grateful I give more of a damn about your people than you apparently do.”

“We were just going to restore morale among the troops!” Constable gasped out, face still an almost putrid red. “ That’s what we wanted the money for!”

Cass got a squirming feeling in her chest, and wished she was still fighting—fists were much easier to face. Much easier to face than things she had to think about.

“We were going to buy them a Convenient,” Constable replied, and Cass could have hit him, probably would have if Dick had not shot her a look.

She could see the way Bruce’s jaw tightened, and he said, “Then put a hole in the wall and let them satisfy themselves with that.”

The tone was deadly, and Constable seemed to shrivel under it. Bruce nodded to Dick and Cass, a wordless, ‘We’re leaving.’

They met the ship on a plain not far away. Landing was rough on almost everyone, but still, Cass didn’t expect screaming when the hold opened.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So! I love this story, and I hope *someone* likes it too. 
> 
> Still figuring it all out--and Harleen hasn't shown up yet, but she will.
> 
> Nova Roma's names are based on Latin, Bialia is basically bastardized Polish for white, and Convenient partially comes from Victorian euphemism.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The stowaway is discovered--and he's certainly not who they expected. At all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some homophobic attitude from Damian.

Jason wished he could space the stowaway, because good ever loving fuck, the stowaway had a set of pipes.

Made him think of a massive finger-key instrument he’d seen on a stormy planet that made huge, bellowing sounds—except the stowaway was also extremely high-pitched and _furious_.

Spacing him? Not an option, and not just cause they weren’t in space at the moment.

Jason had been stalking the little fucker all day, taking a break only to worm his way into Alfred’s quarters to sleep by the doors with his knife, which was a standard issue M-100. Also known, where’d come from, as a ‘fodder blade.’ M stood for melee, 100 was the lowest number, indicating the cheapest cost to make.

And Bruce had offered time and again to get him a better one, but Jason refused, too many memories painted on the damn thing. Plus, how fucking ungrateful did he have to be to abandon something that had saved his life? 

Same reasoning with the crew, the captain, _The Dark Knight_ itself. Jason chose loyalty for those that deserved it.

And this little stowaway was testing his loyalty to protect the crew.

The kid couldn’t have been older than ten, but he brandished a blue sword like it was nothing, the metal of it not only extremely expensive, but the deadly power of it seeming to be just normal to the child. His blue eyes were narrowed hatefully, as he screamed at them.

This confrontation had been going on throughout Babs landing the ship—it would have been an emergency landing had they not already been at their destination.

The screaming was not exactly onesided tension.

Tim looked positively murderous, hand shaking as he held his red kerchief to the slash wound.

If there was something worse than murder, though, Steph surely intended it for the kid.

“You put the fucking sword down, you tiny gremlin!” Steph was shouting at him, and yeah, she had her own weapon, even though she was primarily the medical authority on board (she got mad if they called her a doctor, for reasons Jason wasn’t sure of, only something to do with an ‘establishment’ and ‘bossy ass bastards’). Her weapon was your basic wand—a weapon made to shock the shit out of someone _and_ act as a baton.

It was just then, as Babs helpfully lowered the hatch, that the stowaway was screeching something about blood at Steph, and Bruce, Cass, and Dick came aboard—and in a fucking hurry.

Cass was near Steph and Tim fast, a dark look at the kid warning him that he had better put down the goddamn sword if he wanted to live.

Jason glanced to Bruce at the same time the kid did.

And at the same time Kate arrived on the scene, having salvaged the damage the kid did to the temperature control, which was quickly losing their heat.

Heat in space was kinda a big deal.

Her short red bob seemed a bit frayed, and hell, Bruce looked a touch frazzled too. 

The boy’s eyes widened a fraction on seeing Bruce though, and so suddenly, his sword was sheathed, and he held a begrudging look of…no, that wasn’t respect. It was a desire to impress.

“I imagined you’d be taller,” the boy said rather haughtily. His black and white jumpsuit, which was very tight and also a very high grade material, looked kinda slippery. Definitely trained to fight, but as an individual—as a huge investment.

Jason was pretty sure he didn’t like this kid.

Bruce said, “Who are you and why have you stowed away on my ship and hurt my crew members?”

His tone was sharp, because while Bruce might have a general soft spot for kids, he didn’t have much of one for people who harmed his crew. One thing Jason liked about the guy.

The kid sneered. “I only hurt _him_.” He gestured to Tim, and Jason could see the way Tim’s muscles tightened in fury.

“He is a member of my crew,” Bruce reiterated, “And you haven’t answered my question. Why are you here?”

The kid jutted his chin out, saying, “I am Damian of the Wayne and Al Ghul families, impressively bred, trained, and modified. I am your blood son, and as such, I am here to claim my rightful birthright.”

Kate was looking at Bruce like, ‘He isn’t fucking serious, is he? You have a kid?’

Jason was thinking similar things for sure. For one, he’d bet Dick that Bruce was sterile or infertile or something, and that was why he seemed to take in strays. Why he had a soft spot for runaways and escapees and refugees.

Looked like Jason was wrong on that count. Tim had seethingly told them such speculation was nobody’s business but Bruce’s, and Dick had looked ashamed, so he probably wouldn’t collect on the bet.

Bruce looked stunned to those who knew him. Words weren’t coming out of his mouth, and Jason could tell this had taken him by surprise. In a very big way.

“And what birthright would that be?” Kate said, seeing as Bruce wasn’t going to say anything. Her reddish lips were pulled into a tight look that promised a fight if given the wrong answer.

“The inheritance of the name, the ship, personal effects, and acknowledgement as heir and blood son,” Damian replied, as if this was exactly what every ten year old should be saying. His hard eyes flickered towards Bruce. “Of course, I would not expect to inherit until your demise, which will hopefully be many years in the future. In the meantime, the role of second in command is acceptable.”

Jason could practically feel his eyes bug out. Who did this kid think he was? Holy fuck.

Bruce managed a word. “No.”

Damian blinked, but seemed to regain his fire and snapped, “That’s unacceptable. I am your blood son, your only blood relative here—“

“I’m his cousin, so, no,” Kate put in sharply, and her eyes narrowed in an angry dislike.

“You are wired incorrectly to carry on the name, therefore, you are of little consequence,” Damian said.

Good lord. Holy fuck. This kid was going to be dead soon. 

Bruce said, tone cold and impersonal, “You are not welcome here. We will drop you off at the nearest planet with a proper transit for you to go home, and that is what you will do.”

“Why not just kick him out here?” Steph demanded, tight grip on her wand.

“Because the Bialians may kill him if he seems to be associated with me,” Bruce said flatly.

“Tt. They could try,” Damian snapped, a fury seeming to emanate off of him. “And I am your blood son, I will not be going home, I will be taking my rightful place.”

“There is no room on this crew for you,” Bruce replied, “Now disarm and you will be allowed to wander. If we have to disarm you, you will spend the rest of the voyage locked up in a closet. Understand?”

Amazingly, Damian did disarm. He gave them the sword in its sheath. His eyes were glinting, an unspoken promise.

But a promise of what, exactly?

What’s the worst a ten year old could do, though? Yeah, he’d seemed handy with the sword, but he was fucking _ten years old_ , and now all of the crew knew he was here and violent. Not like he could do much, in Jason’s opinion.

Steph glared at Damian as she tugged Tim towards the med room. Cass loped along behind the pair, a hand on Tim’s shoulder in support.

Those three were always so tactile and shit.

Jason hoped this kid didn’t prove to be a problem—but he knew how to deal with problems. His M-100 and its many nicks and stains and shit were proof enough of that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jason is trained as a mook kinda soldier, I would say. Fodder, you know? Not entirely considered worthless, but certainly lowest rung.
> 
> Poor kiddo. Damian is going to make things difficult for literally everyone.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kate does not care for Damian. Her first priority is the crew's safety.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kate's POV! I read through Batwoman: Elegy to get a feel for her character...and I fucking cried, man.
> 
> Suddenly very pro-Batwoman where I was neutral, that's for sure.

Kate was not a fan of unplanned additions.

When she had been a commander, she hated deviating from the plan—but she was good at it. As one had to be in a situation that could change at any moment. A battle situation was a tempestuous one in a way that most others weren’t. Changes often were very bad, but not always.

She could adjust to changes. She didn’t have to like them, though.

This tiny, bloodthirsty interloper? Definitely not a change she liked. And she was going to be sure nothing happened to anyone on board because of him.

Bruce had retreated to his quarters not long after, and she found him there, face buried in his hands, sitting on his bunk.

Kate sat down next to him with a sigh, saying, “Did you know about him?”

“No. Not in the slightest,” Bruce said, voice a bit flat. His eyes, when he turned his head to look at her, were deep, dark blue. Distressed, but trying to mute it. Trying to smother it and be strong.

“Bruce. Is there a chance he’s lying?” Kate could see the resemblance to Bruce, not any specific thing, just an overall one. Hell, even kind of—very slightly, especially in the green, sharp eyes—a resemblance to herself.

“It’s…not likely. It could be true.” Bruce had run his hands through his hair, and he let out a shuddering breath, head sinking lower.

Kate felt like she should do something. Their family, most branches, had not been very tactile when it came to affection. At times, it was a wonder the blood got passed on, or relationships formed that weren’t some sort of cold alliance.

But she laid a hand on his shoulder, gently, saying, “We’ll figure this out. Keep him contained until we can drop him.”

Bruce sighed again. “If he is my son, I have an obligation.”

“You have an obligation to everyone on this crew, and he’s proven himself dangerous to them,” Kate said back, a little more harshly than intended, “And if he thinks he’s inheriting captaincy…”

“He won’t, no matter what,” Bruce said. 

Kate was pretty sure he had people in mind for the captain should he die in the distant future—or heaven forbid, be otherwise removed. Tim. Dick. Steph. Barbara.

Probably not Cass or Jason, but primarily because their strengths would not serve them in a role like that. Kate personally thought that might change as they got a chance to develop, though.

If he died suddenly, though, it went to Kate.

Not necessarily something she wanted, but a thing she would do. Because they were her family, her crew, and she would protect them.

Like Bruce had for her, for every last one of them.

Not on every instance in their lives, to be sure, but unlike everyone else, he wanted to. Was around to do so. 

And she wanted to do the same.

“So. How do we determine what to do here?”

They both were extensively trained in tactics, battles, and strategy. It was the hallmark of the Wayne family, a line that had once been large and extremely powerful. Now, it could be described as having great potential for power back in their home. Waynes were hallowed heroes in times gone by; it would not take a lot to grasp some power with that name.

Most people didn’t have a family name in that sense. Most of the crew didn’t.

Bruce looked like he didn’t want to strategize or plan. Like he wanted to forget it and continue on, or that it would change somehow if he closed his eyes long enough. Finally, he said, “We keep him, for now. Keep an eye, see what happens. Try to determine…determine what to do. If he is my son…”

Kate nodded. She sort of understood, even if she thought Damian should be off the ship as soon as humanely possible. 

She kind of wanted a set goal to work towards. It was much simpler to fulfill, not that she liked things to be easy, but that she preferred that when the crew could be in danger.

She enjoyed a challenge. She did not enjoy fearing for people’s lives.

Bruce stood slowly, her hand sliding off of his shoulder. “I need to go…talk to Dick. You know what we’re doing. He should too.”

“Yes,” Kate agreed in an almost sigh.

It would be a bit difficult to manage, but somewhat similar tactics to knowing there was a stowaway. Keep an eye. Lock up important things. If someone will be distracted by their work, don’t leave them alone.

The kid would probably not be stupid enough to attack one of them again in the middle of space, given his very vulnerable position, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t possible.

“If he hurts one of them again—“ Kate started.

“He won’t. He will be confined if it does happen.” Bruce’s communication of ‘no one will die under my watch’ was not as reassuring as he probably thought. He assumed that he could control it. That Kate was being bloodthirsty or the like.

But Kate wasn’t going to say she would rip him limb from limb. No. He would be neutralized—whatever the situation called for.

Bruce walked out to talk to Dick.

Kate sighed. She’d seen far too many people destroyed in her life, people that mattered and should not have been hurt. Her family, for instance.

Her father lived, and was a decent member of society, she supposed, back home. Everyone else was more complicated than that.

This was her family, in addition to what remained of her blood family. And she was _not_ going to see them put through hell again.

She departed from Bruce’s quarters with a sigh. 

It might have been a growl if she’d known what Damian was up to at that moment, but the fact was, none of them knew.

\--

Kate found Alfred, but he wasn’t alone. Jason sat there, and he gave her his customary sloppy salute. “Hey Cap.”

She nodded at him. She wasn’t in the mood to joke back, though she was capable. 

Jason got back to listening to Alfred, who was telling about a situation on a world Kate knew something about—Akai Chikyuu, a planet with a red, dusty surface, suitable to certain kinds of crops and breathable, inhabited.

He was talking about tunnellers choking to death during a dust storm that swept through the open shaft, and seemed to have just gotten to a point where they hacked up red chunks of dirt when he decided that Kate definitely wanted his attention. “Yes, Kate?”

“Are you feeding the stowaway?” she asked.

“I would presume so, as starving him would be unethical,” Alfred replied, sliding a cup across the top of the metal table that Jason was sitting on a cook’s chair at. It contained a sugary drink designed to sustain.

Jason took it, sipping as he said, “Don’t see why the runt should be fed.”

“Jason, starving someone is not appropriate,” Alfred said lightly, and added, “I seem to recall food requisition being one of your talents in the early days.”

He didn’t say it meanly, but Jason flushed anyway. “Uh, well, that bastard snuck on board and stabbed Tim, okay? Fuck him, it’s…”

“Feeding him is acceptable,” Kate said, remembering Jason easily at that age. One of her reasons for being in this life, after all. “But, necessities only. We don’t need to give him a reason to want to stay.”

“It does taste like shit. It’ll drive him right off,” Jason said with a sort of conspiratorial look at Kate.

Alfred shook his head, but it was affectionate. “That is how it shall be, then.”

They couldn’t afford for Damian to fight to stay, after all. Kate hoped to make him leave peacefully.

If not…

They’d figure it out when they reached it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beth might show up. Bette is gonna.
> 
> Also, Akai Chikyuu is roughly Japanese for Red Globe. Roughly. I figure language would be fairly distorted at this point, if any of the 'original' languages existed, but yeah.
> 
> And yay Kate! I can relate so fucking much. A twin without their twin is traumatic enough without all the other shit that went down. Poor gal.
> 
> Oh! And this Kate is more entwined in the Bat Saga than canon Kate is, mostly cause I can have her have been there from the beginning, as opposed to decades later. :P


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barbara also doesn't like Damian. Damian is making enemies everywhere he goes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ableism in this chap!

Barbara did not like Damian in the least.

She still remembered what Jason had been like, vaguely, Tim, Cass, so on—but they weren’t like Damian at all.

He was watching her, staring at her wheelchair like it was disgusting. His mouth was pinched in a tight frown, and then his eyes darted over the controls she used.

“Is there a problem?” Barbara finally said, and she could see Dick twitch near her, leaning against the console but hardly at ease.

Damian’s sneer was evident in his voice, though she could see it anyway. “You’re a cripple, and you fly this ship inefficiently.”

That got Barbara turning around, eyebrow raised as her chair swung with a click on its base. “Even if either of those were true, they’re not related. Besides which, it’s not really your business, is it? You’re not deciding where we go.”

“You could have been fixed. Or chosen the honorable option. Besides which, I will be—“

Damian didn’t get to finish, eyes widening with shock as the throwing knife embedded from where it had sliced the tip of his ear in the wall behind him. He seemed to have entirely discounted the idea of Barbara being able to fight.

“Next time, it goes between your eyes,” Barbara said simply, turning back to the console. She had no intention of killing a child, of course, but this one had already hurt Tim, and he needed to be aware she would fight back. That she was neither helpless nor terrified of him.

She felt kind of bad, the shock in his eyes reminding her of a younger Jason, somehow.

His shock had tended to be about different things, though.

“You don’t want to make her mad,” Dick said, and the obvious pride in her was in his voice. She could almost hear the teasing grin. 

Damian let out a disbelieving snort. “What’s the worst she can do to me?”

“Uh, drop you off on an ice world? Or give you flight sickness? Or, you know, kill you,” Dick said, crossing his ankles as he leaned back as though this was going to be an in depth conversation. 

Damian’s mouth scrunched up in almost childish irritation before he quickly smoothed it out to what he must have thought looked suitably stoic. Tough, or something along those lines. “It doesn’t change the truth.”

“Ah, the truth that you’re going to be the captain, or that you think I’m broken?” Barbara replied bluntly, seeing Dick flinch just a little. He wasn’t oblivious to the fact her spine didn’t quite work, but it still not something that he was so blunt about. In fact, he was often one to want to fight someone about it early on, until he figured out Barbara didn’t need that from him.

“Both.” Damian said this flatly and yet with a certain imperious tone.

“Here’s what you need to know: Bruce would rather die than let someone like you take over his ship at any point in time, son or not. Secondly, you can’t be completely unaware of the dangers involved with neurologic changes, such as messing with a broken spine. You’ve probably seen the nasty things done. I come from Nova Roma—the corruption wouldn’t allow my father to risk putting me under the knife,” Barbara said, probably going on a little longer than necessary, but feeling as though she got her point across.

Damian’s lips pressed together. “I see.”

He didn’t seem at all willing to accept what she said, but he wasn’t going to fight. At least, not right then. 

Dick looked over at him. “So. Bruce’s son, then?”

Barbara gave him a look. It really wasn’t their business what Bruce got up to a good ten or more years ago. 

But Damian took the bait anyway. “Yes. I am his blood son, unlike any of you. Our families’ joining will bring great power in this part of the universe.”

Barbara almost laughed as she remembered something Tim had once said. ‘Imagine we’re this ball here, see? That’s our bit of the universe. Now imagine there are thirty quadrillion other such balls with it, and you’ll only have gotten a fraction of the universe.’

Damian glared, but Dick responded.

“Blood’s not the only thing that keeps people together.” He had his hands tucked in his belt. His clothes were more form fitting than a lot of the crew’s, but there was plenty of space for him to do that.

“It is a way to rend them apart,” Damian said in a threatening tone.

“Rending can be arranged,” Barbara returned. She didn’t quite have the same tone Bruce would, but it seemed Damian took it seriously, because he was quiet a moment.

She wasn’t certain Damian was all that manageable. What had been pulled up on him was scant, only seeming to indicate that he was trained.

And not in the sense that some members of the crew were trained or modified. Not in the same way, Barbara supposed. Damian seemed to absolutely embrace what he’d been made into, had been treated very differently.

Not disposable.

There was an uncomfortable silence for a while longer, and then the click of Damian’s boots signified his leaving.

Dick turned to Barbara, the slide of the fabric of his clothes on the console audible. “I’m still not sure if he really believes all he’s spouting. He acts really brash.”

Barbara sighed, shaking her head. “He certainly believed it enough to stab Tim. I saw his hand, it might not be deep, but that is not an accidental thing. I don’t trust him, and none of us should.”

Dick was quiet a moment, and then said, “You wouldn’t have said that about Jay.”

“Jason’s different,” Barbara returned promptly. “He actually wanted out of that. Not to mention, that’s an entirely different scenario. Leaving Jason would have been like leaving an abused animal, some straggly little beast. Damian is much more like a proper cuon, trained to kill and pleased with it.”

Dick frowned, and Barbara thought perhaps bringing up cuons, muscular beasts with reddish fur and sharp white teeth, may have been a bit much. Groups trained them as the epitome of guard animals, and they typically wore things like chains around their necks, tongues lolling out until the command was given to attack. Then, no mercy.

Dick had been savaged by one once. Not something he preferred to revisit.

But he seemed to brush forward. “He might not be all that. I think he and Jay have more in common than you think.”

Barbara was about to object, but Dick beat her to it.

“No, I don’t mean let him do what he wants. He lays another finger on anyone in this crew, and he will lose it. They come first. But if he is Bruce’s kid, he might want to keep him, so…maybe not pollute the spaces between us?” Dick shrugged.

At about that time, Bruce showed up, nodding to Dick. “I need to talk to you.”

Dick shrugged, as if to say, ‘Babs’s going to hear it all anyway’, but left the cockpit to step outside of it. No one would be able to get in while they were there anyway.

Barbara sighed, facing forward. The comm system lit up a green light, the medbay, and Steph chirped over it, “You’ll be glad to know Tim’s not going to get hydrophobia from the demon brat!”

“I am glad to know that,” Babs returned with a smile. Tim was also easily a favorite, exactly the type to be able to ‘talk ship’ with her for a long time, and sit in companionable silence in other times. She also liked Steph, but for different reasons. “Did you get a chance to see what we got?”

“Yeah, milk and meat and shit! Alfred’s gonna have a great time—he’ll be on Ruthenia’s Moon.” She giggled at that one, probably imagining Alfred with a dopey grin.

Barbara laughed back. “You go on, Steph. Keep being you. I’m sure Cass will want your attention.”

Those three did not like separations, after all.

“You’re just jealous my girlfriend is gorgeous and yours isn’t.”

“You’re right, he isn’t my girlfriend. Have a good time, Steph. Say hi to Tim and Cass.” Barbara watched the light blink off and shook her head about the typical jokes. They didn’t necessarily make sense, but the two of them enjoyed making them.

Barbara couldn’t help but get the feeling this was the calm before the storm, though, after the fight Damian had put up when he was first discovered. For him to seemingly back down so easily…it made her uneasy.

She’d just have to wait and see what happened, though.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, so, cuon is basically taken from the name for the dhole, which is a southeast asian wild dog. Cuon seems to come from VIetnamese. Dunno if it really works, but we'll see.
> 
> Ruthenia is a historical name for the Kievan Rus, which is now part of Ukraine (I believe?) but contributed heavily to Russian culture. That's a bit of mess of interrelation, though.
> 
> And we'll get more into neurological modification as we go on!

**Author's Note:**

> Goddamnit, I spent so long figuring out the tagging and shit...oh well. More writing tomorrow. T.T
> 
> Anywho. Harleen is gonna show up, and Bette's definitely more after my alternate take on her (since she's kinda a sexist, wet paper bag at best in canon? Ish?) and yeah. Also...Cass, Tim, and Steph are complex, and you shall see. :)
> 
> As is Jason.
> 
> As for who the stowaway is? That's a surprise! :D Probably not hard to guess, though.
> 
> Also, I wasn't certain on pairing for Kate, cause I am familiar with her character, but not as much her canon love interests, and plus how they'd fit in...I almost pulled Detective Ellen Yin from The Batman, cause that's a Renee Montoya analogue and I know her character better, and there was something with Renee and Kate, but then I thought of an interesting story angle. You shall see. :) Some of the relationships are onesided. Or otherwise really not good. (I mean, it is the Joker...)


End file.
